


Out of Darkness

by the-reylo-void (Anysia)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dark!Rey, Dream Sex, F/M, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anysia/pseuds/the-reylo-void
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in his dreams, he falls to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> First Reylo fic. Didn't turn out nearly as smutty as I'd hoped, but that's what subsequent trips to hell are for. I imagine that Kylo Ren's biggest turn-on is the idea of Rey falling to the Dark Side, whether or not he realizes it, or accepts it, and that's where this little slice of something came from.

Kylo Ren does not dream.

 

It is a sentimental thing, dreaming. The twist of emotion and want in the darkness, mind stripped bared and open, and he has no need of it. He sleeps little, a creature of hardened asceticism, of deprivation, and when he does he faces only shuttered dreamscapes of rolling blackness, like staring into a deep, endless pool.

 

(Ben had been rather fond of dreaming, he remembers. Frightening things, disturbing things. Prescient. They died with the boy's innocence, so very long ago now.)

 

And so he does not realize he is dreaming at first, so long divorced from the practice.

 

He is suddenly in darkness, blinks hard behind his mask as low light settles around the edges of his vision, humming red. Bright.

 

He hears a low footfall, light and spry, and reaches, instinctually, for the saber at his waist, feels a rise of panic at his gorge as he finds it missing.

 

"Looking for this?"

 

His heart seizes as the light flares, as he sees _her._

 

The girl, the _girl_...

 

And yet not.

 

He recognizes her, the heart-shaped face, the strong bearing, the waves of the Force rolling through her, through him, so _overwhelming_ he nearly falters, struggles to stay upright.

 

But her tattered desert robes are gone, and she stands before him, swathed in black, dangles his lightsaber between pointed fingers and stares at him, a faint smile turning dark at the corner of her mouth.

 

He feels his stomach clench, feels his blood heat at the sight of her. Her eyes flash yellow-red, her hair unbound around her shoulders, just brushing the midnight-black surface of her robes.

 

She is Darkness.

 

She is want.

 

She is beautiful.

 

"You want this," she says, voice a dark, supple purr, and her eyes do not move from his as the saber falls to the ground with a metallic clank.

 

He does not respond ( _wants his weapon, wants **her** , he doesn't know which_), cannot move as she carelessly raises her hand and holds him fast, drags him to her, lifts him off his feet and stares up at him.

 

She radiates power, darkness, eyes flashing bright into his, and he had begged to teach her once but he would crawl to her now.

 

Her fingers move, and he hears the clasps of his mask cracking open, hears the crash of it as it falls. The ghost of her fingers tighten around his throat, a squeezing caress, and he can't breathe but he couldn't anyway as she traces the contour of her lower lip with her tongue.

 

"Would you yield to me, Kylo Ren?" she murmurs, hand still extended, canting her head to the side and staring up at him.

 

Her eyes are dark with promise, with longing, and he grunts, pushes back through the Force and breaks from her hold, dragging her into his arms.

 

" _Yes_ ," he grinds out, grasping her hair in one gloved hand and roughly pulling her head back, running his fingers along the pale curve of her neck, because she is Rey and Not Rey, this beautiful creature of darkness here beside him, and she is sin and fire and _fallen_.

 

He realizes he is dreaming as she fists her hands along his back, rises up on tiptoe and presses her lips to his, burning-hot, branding.

 

He knows that she is but a shadow, this dark queen burning here in the darkness, so far removed from the creature of Light who had raised hand against him and cast him, bleeding and beaten, into the snow.

 

He does not care.

 

She is playful, curious, sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips before slipping inward to tangle with his, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and she does not fight when he knots his fingers in her hair, presses close to her, kisses her with open desire.

 

There is fire beneath his skin, in his blood, and for the first time in years he is weak, to the Force, to her.

 

She breaks the kiss, stares at him with eyes gone lust-dark and hooded. "Kneel to me," she says softly, curving her hand around his jaw, fingertips tight against the paleness of his skin.

 

Something in him protests, fights, as her eyes burn into his. He is Sith, he is the leader of the Knights of Ren, he is darkness, death, power thrumming through him, _pulsing, pounding, **everywhere**_...

 

She smiles, for him, soft and beautiful in his darkness.

 

He kneels, bows his head to her.

 

His breathing is rough and ragged as she presses him back, settles across his lap, straddles his hips. "You want me," she says, voice soft even as she commands,

 

"Yes." His hands are curved around her hips, lips at her neck, tasting, biting, claiming. He is hard, pressing up into the tight space between her legs, and his head spins.

 

"To rule beside you."

 

" _Yes_."

 

"To fall."

 

His voice dies as she pushes him back with a firm hand at his chest, strokes her fingertips down, down, _down_ until she's stroking him through his robes, her breath steady and measured, eyes dark as she stares at him from beneath her eyelashes.

 

He finds himself on his back as she rises above him, her hand small and warm as it slips inside his robes and fists around his hardening cock.

 

Years of training, of strength, purpose, steeled will and discipline, and everything in him still shatters and stills as she ducks her head, wraps her red, red lips around the head of his cock and sucks.

 

Her name is a broken cry on his lips, harsh and faltering as she wraps her hand around the base of him, strokes and bobs her head, her tongue snaking down his length, and he burns for her.

 

 _Fall to me_ , he hears her think, feels it ripple around him through the Force and she's strong, she's so _strong_ , in the Force, in the darkness, and he will die for her, to break her and bring her to his side.

 

She takes him into the back of her throat, holds him there before rising, bobs her head and takes him again, again, _again_...

 

His hands are tangled in her hair, pulling her towards him, and her lips and tongue are everywhere and he is burning so _hot_ , liquid fire scoring through him as he finally spills down her throat, her name screaming through the Force even as it falters as a weak whisper on his lips.

 

He is boneless, weak, spent as her small hands tuck him back into his robes, as she presses gentle, mocking kisses to his throat, his cheek, before running one hand across his brow, gently stroking aside his sweat-slicked hair and ghosting her lips beside his temple.  

 

"...come to me," he says, and scarce recognizes his own voice, the broken, strangled thing it is. She is warm against him as he holds her to him, darkly beautiful, and he will keep her.

 

He _must_.

 

"No," she smirks, and there is a painful splinter deep within his chest, something buried and forgotten surging through, breaking.

 

He moves, pulls her close, fingers in a bruising hold against her chin, and his eyes narrow. "I will not give you a choice, when the time comes."

 

A smooth, easy grin tilts at the corners of her lips.

 

He blinks, once, and she is gone, only the lingering warmth of her body against his, the tactile memory of her fingertips against his skin, of plush lips wrapped around his cock.

 

"Oh, Ben," he hears in the darkness, a soft sigh. "You don't even realize how far you've fallen."

 

And Kylo Ren wakes, breath seizing high in his throat, eyes fluttering dark and unfocused into the night, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and her name ghosting fire across his lips.

 

Somewhere, deep within him, Ben is screaming.

 

Somewhere, light-years past, curled in on herself, breathing hard, eyes unfocused, Rey responds in kind.


End file.
